


The Promises I'll Make If You Just Hold On

by just_folie_a_deux_it



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Pete, Dom Patrick, Fluffy Ending, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Sub Pete, Top Patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9558038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_folie_a_deux_it/pseuds/just_folie_a_deux_it
Summary: Patrick can always tell when Pete's having a rough time, and he also knows just how to help the bassist out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dru (http://infinity-on-dru.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing :) :)
> 
> Also, title based off of lyrics from Twin Skeletons

It’s one of those weeks. The kind where Pete just can’t stop moving, he’s electric on the inside and he thinks he’s lucky that they’re on tour right now because each night he feels drained and exhausted in all the right ways, and maybe he can just get through this unscathed if he keeps playing as hard as he can and screaming to the kids that it gets better, though even as he says the words he isn’t sure they’re true. Tonight is different though, and he knows Patrick can tell because the singer kept a firm grip on the back of Pete’s neck as they walked off stage after Saturday.

“Go straight back to the room.” He murmured lowly in Pete’s ear. “Lock the door, on your knees until I get there.”

Pete swallowed and he felt his body shake slightly. “But-“

“Knees.” Patrick said, voice lower and harder now.

Pete shuddered and nodded, hands fisting by his side. “Okay.” He whispered.

As he walked away, towards the bus and away from the low roar of the stage, he could hear Patrick making excuses for him and he sighed.

\---

It seemed like forever that Pete sat on his knees, eyes unfocused as his gaze rested on the floor. The only light came from a dim lamp on the nightstand, but he was sure that wasn’t the reason his pupils were blown so wide. His breathing had slowed, but his body was still vibrating, nerves on end. Waiting was the hardest part. It was always the hardest part, he was impatient and needy and fuck why was Patrick taking so fucking long? Didn’t he know how bad Pete needed this?

Just as Pete was about to consider getting up and simply going to bed, Patrick be damned, the door clicked open slowly, a yellow rectangle of light widening across the floor and illuminating Pete’s face.

Patrick frowned at the dark circles under the bassist’s eyes. “You’re still dressed.” He murmured, stepping into the room and shutting the door gently.

Pete’s head snapped up. “You didn’t say to-“

“I know.” Patrick murmured. “You’re not in trouble. I was just making an observation.” His voice was calm, unbothered, as if he couldn’t see that Pete was coming apart at the seams right before him.

Pete blinked as the singer stepped forward until his crotch was level with Pete’s eyes. Pete felt his breath catch just slightly, and his gaze stayed firmly planted on Patrick’s jeans as his hands greedily snatched at the belt in front of him before getting swatted away.

“No.” Patrick said firmly.

Pete whimpered, and now he looked up, Patrick tall and imposing above him. Deep blue eyes looked down at him, flickering slightly.

“Not yet.” Patrick said, one hand coming up to lace in Pete’s unwashed hair, fingers tightening in the greasy locks. It seemed worse than he’d originally thought.

Pete gave a soft noise, eyes falling shut for a brief second, just focusing on the weight of Patrick’s hand on his head, anchoring him. The pressure above him increased and Pete let himself be pushed down until his nose was pushing against Patrick’s boot. His eyes flicked up for a moment and Patrick simply nodded, letting go of Pete’s hair to cross his arms.

Pete let his eyes close, lips parting as his tongue darted out to swipe across the rough leather of Patrick’s boot. He flattened his tongue out, licking up across the toe and moaning softly. His eyes opened and he gazed up through his lashes at Patrick who had a satisfied smirk across his lips as he looked back down at Pete.

“Good boy.” He murmured. “The other now.”

Pete hummed in agreement and shifted so his ass was up in the air, wiggling slightly. He nosed into the laces of Patrick’s boot for a moment before licking across the black surface, shivering at how vulnerable and open he felt even though he was still fully clothed.

Pete felt himself be nudged back and he looked up as Patrick knelt down in front of him, cradling Pete’s face in his hands, fingertips rough and callused from the years of guitar. Crystal blue met deep brown and for a second Pete’s breath was simply taken away by how beautiful Patrick was.

“Bed.” Patrick murmured, breath ghosting across Pete’s lips.

Pete nodded, letting himself be pulled up and then gently pushed back down onto the mattress. Patrick hovered over him, and for a second Pete though it was all over and he was simply going to be tucked in and held. He gave a soft whimper, biting his lip and Patrick snorted.

“I’m not done with you.” He promised, sitting back.

Pete tried to sit up with the singer, but a firm hand on his chest kept him pinned down and he didn’t bother fighting it. Not yet, at least.

Patrick’s hands pushed up Pete’s shirt, splaying across his stomach and just barely pressing his fingertips into the dark skin there.

“You were naughty on stage, you know.” He murmured, gaze traveling up Pete’s torso and finally locking on Pete’s eyes.

“Was I?” Pete mumbled, mind focused on Patrick’s voice and not the antics he’d pulled a few hours ago.

“You were. Jumping all over the place, flinging yourself at me like some desperate whore, getting on your knees and I know if I hadn’t pushed you away you’d have done something embarrassing for us both.” Patrick growled. “If you’re not careful, they’ll catch on.”

Pete smirked. “So let them.” He breathed. “I’m not ashamed.”

Patrick glared and fisted his free hand in Pete’s hair, pulling just hard enough that Pete gave a soft yelp. “I’m not ashamed either, but I’m careful. And you’re being reckless, and it’s unacceptable.” He said.

“So punish me.” Pete grinned, white teeth flashing against his skin.

Patrick shook his head. “Pathetic.” He murmured, pulling Pete up by his hair. “So desperate for attention that’d you’d blow me in front of a crowd of thousands.”

Pete moaned softly, eyes locking with Patrick’s. “I’d blow you in front of millions.” He whispered.

And then he was being pushed back down, shirt torn off and jeans being yanked down, boxers following soon after. After a moment he was left naked and breathless in front of Patrick, splayed across the bed.

“Already hard?” Patrick asked, one hand catching Pete’s hip and thumbing across the protruding bone. “So desperate for me.” He cooed.

Pete whined and reached for his leaking cock.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Patrick growled, grabbing Pete’s wrist and pinning it above his head. “You don’t cum until I say you do.”

Patrick’s hand held Pete’s wrist tight enough it would bruise, at least Pete hoped, but only for a minute before he was letting go and pulling up and off of Pete, the warmth from his body leaving. Pete gave a noise, sitting up with an almost panicked cry, but Patrick had no intentions of leaving Pete, he just sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Pete across his lap.

“Count.” He said firmly, positioning the bassist so he’d be getting absolutely no friction from Patrick’s jeans.

“How many?” Pete breathed, somehow more turned on than he’d been just seconds ago.

“Until I say to stop.” Patrick murmured.

The first smack only surprised Pete, hitting his ass and making him start.

“One.” He gasped, fists clenching into Patrick’s jeans.

The second stung slightly, hitting the exact same spot right where his thigh met his cheeks.

“Two.” Pete grit his teeth.

The third was where it hurt, Patrick’s hand biting into his skin and then leaving a hot burn. Seventeen smacks later and Pete was left a trembling mess, moaning and rutting his hips to no avail.

“Trick, please.” He whispered. “Please, fuck, please touch me.” He was close to crying by now, painfully hard and his ass burned and if he didn’t cum soon he was sure he’d explode.

Patrick simply shoved Pete off of his lap and back onto the bed where Pete sprawled out on his stomach.

“Stay absolutely still.” Patrick murmured.

Pete could hear the rustle of clothing being removed, jeans unzipped, fabric tossed away, and then Patrick was over him, chest to back and they were flush against each other and touching and Pete wanted to sob from relief when Patrick’s hand reached under him and began stroking slowly.

“Want me to fuck you?” Patrick asked softly, lips just by Pete’s ear as his thumb swept across the head of Pete’s cock.

Pete could only give a strangled noise of affirmation, pressing back into Patrick and feeling the singer’s hardness against his thigh.

Patrick pulled back just enough that he could reach over into his jeans and pull out a condom and lube, popping the cap and slicking his fingers up.

“Ready?” He murmured, teasing Pete’s entrance with the cool tips of his fingers.

“Yeah, fuck, please.” Pete mumbled, pushing back as best he could.

Pete could only give a soft gasp as Patrick pushed two fingers in, the stretch burning slightly but in such a good way that Pete was already pushing back to get the fingers deeper. Patrick didn’t wait very long before adding a third and crooking them all, pushing right across the spot that made Pete’s entire body jerk.

“There, ‘Trick, god, right there.” He cried, shuddering.

Patrick nodded, lips pushing across Pete’s shoulder and biting at the skin he could reach. His fingers pressed in harder, rubbing against Pete’s prostate and then he pulled them almost all the way out before slamming them back in.

Pete gave a whorish moan, head falling back slightly and eyes screwing shut. “Fuck, yes, harder.” He begged.

“You slut, gonna get off on just my fingers?” Patrick asked, fucking Pete steadily now with the digits. “Can’t you wait for me to get my cock in you?”

Pete shuddered, hips rocking down desperately now into the mattress. “C’mon, fuck me, ‘Trick.” He breathed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Patrick only smirked, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Pete with a terribly empty feeling that made him whine and wiggle his hips.

“Have patience.” Patrick murmured, grabbing the condom only for Pete’s fingers to lock around his wrist.

“No.” Pete said, face solemn. “Wanna feel you.”

Patrick blinked, and they stayed frozen like that for a moment, just staring at each other. They’d done it without before, a few times, when they wanted to feel close and took their time and Pete cried the first time and then the next time Patrick did and the third time Pete whispered ‘I love you’ as he came. The look in Pete’s eyes this time was different. It was desperate in a way Patrick couldn’t quite place, begging and commanding all at once.

The condom fell from Patrick’s fingers and Pete’s grip on his wrist loosened. Pete nodded and lay back down, arms folded under his head, hips lifted slightly, chest pressed into the mattress.

Patrick blinked and Pete twisted his head to shoot him a look, eyebrow raised.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” He asked, voice haughty.

Patrick growled and quickly slicked himself quickly before wrenching Pete’s hips up and leveling himself. There was no time for Pete to even catch his peath before Patrick had slammed in, thrusting his entire body weight against Pete and bottoming out almost immediately.

Pete saw stars, eyes growing wide as he moaned loudly, fists clenching in the sheets and face pressing into the mattress. “Fuck, ‘Tri-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Patrick snapped, thrusting in again and silencing Pete. “Jesus, how are you so fucking tight every time?” He groaned. His fingers dug into the bassist’s hips hard enough to make him whimper, but the pain only drove him farther into ecstasy.

Patrick was pressed flush against Pete’s back, skin sweaty and making them both slick. For a moment the only sound was of skin slapping skin and Patrick’s soft grunts as he pounded into the other. Pete regained his voice, though, mouth falling open and pornographic moans leaving him with each sharp thrust.

“’Trick, Christ, ‘Trick-“

“Didn’t I say for you to be quiet?” Patrick growled, one hand leaving Pete’s hip only to grip his hair and pull his head back. “Aren’t you gonna be a good boy for me?”

Pete whined low in his throat and nodded as best he could from his position, crying out as Patrick thrusted in again and hit his prostate dead on.

“Gonna cum?” Patrick whispered, voice low and dangerous.

Pete gasped and nodded.

“Not until I say so, remember?” The singer’s breath tickled Pete’s ear making him squirm and wiggle.

“Until you say so.” Pete repeated, rocking back into Patrick.

Patrick smirked and knelt back until Pete was sitting in his lap. He positioned the other until he knew he’d gotten as deep as he could before bucking his hips up. Pete gave a startled moan, head falling back onto Patrick’s shoulder.

“Fuck! ‘Trick, please, please I’m so close, baby, please.” Pete whispered, shaking now from the need to cum.

Patrick hummed and wrapped an arm around Pete’s chest, the other snaking down so his hand could wrap around the bassist’s cock. “You want it?” He murmured. “You want me to let you?”

Pete whimpered and nodded, bouncing slightly in Patrick’s lap until he found his spot and screamed. “Yes! God, Patrick, please, let me, please I’m fucking begging.” He cried, voice cracking now. He sounded close to crying.

Patrick nodded and began stroking the other in time with his thrusts. Pete’s body jolted with each push, and Patrick knew he only had a few more seconds so he let his lips rest beside the other’s ear and whispered, “Come on, go ahead.” before sinking his teeth into the tan throat exposed to him.

Pete screamed out, back arching as his orgasm shot through his veins and washed over him. His thighs tightened with pleasure before his body gave out and he was limp against Patrick, panting softly. The singer groaned at the sudden clench of muscles around him, hips snapping up a few more times before he shuddered and came as well.

Pete gave a weak noise at the warmth shooting up into him, eyes half-lidded and a sleepy grin across his lips. Patrick took in a breath and gently nudged Pete off of him, kissing his neck and down to his shoulders. He pulled out carefully before laying the bassist down.

“Lemme go get a washcloth and some lotion for you, okay?” He murmured, stretching.

Pete nodded, cheek pressing into the cool pillow. “’Kay.” He mumbled.

Patrick stood and went to the bathroom before coming back and wiping off Pete’s stomach and then his thighs, rubbing lotion into the bright red welts on his ass. “You were so good for me, you know? Such a good boy.” He whispered softly, peppering kisses across all the skin he could reach.

Pete smiled, pressing up into Patrick. “You made it better.” He said softly. “You always make it better.”

Patrick sighed and smiled, setting the lotion and washcloth down before climbing into bed next to Pete and pulling the tattooed man into his arms. “I will always be here to make it better.” He whispered, reaching up to turn the light off.

“Promise?” Pete mumbled, nosing up into Patrick’s neck and sighing softly.

Patrick could tell he was already close to falling asleep, exhausted in all the ways a person could be. The singer nodded and closed his eyes. “I promise.”


End file.
